Lost Sons

 The Father of The Prodigal Son

The story of the prodigal son is one that I’ve thought a lot about over the years. I’ve wondered about it from the perspective of the son’s father.

If you are not familiar with the passage it is in Luke 15 starting in vs 10. You can go there and read it. I won’t try to recount the story since you can read if for yourself. If you don’t have a bible handy you can go to one of the many websites on the internet and read it there.

In this story there is a father who loses his son. His son is gone and the father likely wonders if he will return. He may never see him again.

Then one day…

“But while he was yet afar off, his father saw him, and was moved with compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.”

The Fatter saw and knew his son from a great distance.

Let me interrupt this story to tell you another and then I’ll circle back to this one.

I am a photographer. When Pam and I made our trips to Alaska I learned to look for animals at the tree line. If you are going to see a bear it would be at the tree line “more than likely”. If you are going to see a moose, same story.

As one of our trips unfolded I realized my constant gaze was at the tree line. As we drove that’s where I was looking when I could. When we were stopped that is what I was looking. All for the chance to see a bear, or a moose or some other wildlife to photograph.

I imagine the Father of the Prodigal was the same way. But he was looking for something much more important and precious… his son.

The root of the Greek word we translate as “compassion” comes from a word that refers to the insides of a person. Bowles. Intestines. Guts. The father was moved to his core when he saw his son. His love overwhelmed him and he ran to greet his son.

He knew immediately who it was. Was it because the son had a certain way he walked? How did he know who it was from a great distance? Was God whispering in his ear… “He’s home”.

The Father was always looking at the horizon. Scanning the tree line. Wondering. Hoping. Waiting. The feelings in his inner being could not be quieted.

Then one day there he was.

He was home.

My earthly father was likely much different from yours. I’m sure my dad would have not ran to meet me. He would not have had a dinner in my honor.

I heard it said once that the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference. So I would tell you that my dad would have been indifferent in the same situation.

But my heavenly father is waiting for me. He will rejoice when He sees me.

And I will be happy to be home.